A Cruel Game
by GejimayuGirl
Summary: "I don't usually brag about stuff like this, but it's more a universal truth than a boast. Birds fly, fish swim, and Sanji seriously wants to jump my bones - not that I'm complaining." ZoroxSanji. Rated for language and mild suggestive adult themes.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I've been reading **New Neon'**s ZoSan fics lately and got the inspiration for this tasty morsel of a one-shot. I promise I'm still working on the next chapter to "The Plot Thickens," for those of you reading it, and I also plan to pick my other stories back up ASAP. I just couldn't resist this deliciously scandalous little plot bunny.

I hope Zoro isn't too OOC. Just thought it would be interesting to write from his perspective. I also _love _the idea of Zoro seducing Sanji on purpose by picking fights.

The One Piece characters are not mine, unfortunately. If they were, Usopp-kun would get mad glompings from me… Then I'd reluctantly hand him over to Nami (Yes; I'm one of _*those*_ shippers).

Anyway, enjoy! Please review!

_**Edit: Changed a little bit of the story to address an issue that a reviewer pointed out - in my original version, Sanji was smoking, which he never does while cooking. Thank you, mysterious anon reviewer, for the reminder.**_

* * *

He's been waiting for me.

He'll never own up to it, but I can tell by the way his shoulders tense when I open the galley door. He knows who it is without looking.

"What do you want, Moss-For-Brains?" Sanji snaps, keeping his back turned.

He's chopping up fruit for lunch. I can't resist snagging a slice of kiwi from the edge of the cutting board.

"Oi!" He turns to scold me, slapping it out of my hand. "Don't touch food while it's being prepared, stupid Marimo… it is highly unsanitary."

I find the bit of green flesh on the floor by his feet. I don't bother hiding my grin as I pick it up and toss it in the air, catching it in my teeth.

"That. Is. _**Disgusting**_." The dart-brow is horrified.

I'm not the least bit worried about it. Sanji keeps his kitchen spotless. The crew could eat full meals from this floor if they wanted to.

"Five second rule," I explain, still smiling and licking my fingers. I'm on the verge of chuckling at the crazy blond's totally repulsed expression.

I can see I'm already starting to bug him. I find an opening to get some more annoyance mileage and go for it.

"You're one to talk about 'unsanitary,' and 'disgusting,' shitty cook," I say, poking the cigarette pack in his breast pocket with my index finger. "Smoking is a pretty nasty habit."

His curlicued brow rises with surprise, but he says nothing.

For good measure, I grab another stray piece of fruit on the work surface and chew it loudly just inches from his face.

He looks insulted, to say the least.

"Shut up, idiot swordsman… and stop ruining my food with your tainted hands!" he whines.

Sanji is pouting now. This, of course, is _**hilarious**_.

I step backward to escape a possible kick to the face when I start laughing. I take a seat on a bar stool so the counter is between us. If he does decide to attack, I need a little reaction time, at least.

"Just what the hell is so funny, you Neanderthal?"

"Oh, nothing," I reply when I catch my breath. "Just you… actin' like a _little bitch boy_." I continue to laugh and he scowls at me.

"I'll show you 'bitch boy,' you uncouth moron… we can take this outside whenever you want."

Oh, I've got him good and pissed off now. _I love this part_.

He stares flaming daggers at me because the insults aren't enough, but he doesn't want to abandon his post or trash the kitchen.

I laugh again in spite of myself. I really am a bastard for riling him up this way, but I get way too much entertainment out of it to stop myself.

Well, it's entertaining, but there's more to it than that.

Sanji wants me so badly that he can hardly stand it. I can see it all over his irate face.

I don't usually brag about stuff like that, but it's more a universal truth than a boast. Birds fly, fish swim, and Sanji seriously wants to jump my bones - not that I'm complaining.

It's become a game for me – a cruel game, but I don't feel guilty because he makes it too easy. He's scary as hell in a fight, but other than that, he is the most thin-skinned person I've ever met. I suspect that after enough of this, he'll crack and fess up.

I'm willing to wait. I've dealt with his incessant moaning about bullshit while he struts around in those form-fitting suits for quite a while already… what's a little longer?

Pissiness incarnate turns a cold shoulder to me and I find myself checking out his ass. I can't help it, really. It's a _perfect ass_. The gods created a work of fucking art when they made that ass. All the lower-body training probably doesn't hurt, either.

"Yo, ero Marimo… My eyes are up here!"

The damn Love Cook is looking over his shoulder at me now.

_Shit! I've been caught. Gotta come up with a good cover…_

"I wasn't lookin' at _you_, dumbass. I saw a roach on the floor over there."

"No, you did _not_!" the goofy blond shrieks. He leaps about 3 feet away from the work surface, scanning the ground for insects. Again, I laugh at his expense.

I'm a terrible person for abusing the poor guy so much. Maybe I can make amends once he's in my bed.

I don't have much time to consider that idea before the hot-headed bitch boy grabs me by the front of my shirt, pulling my face just a few inches from his.

"Get out of my kitchen, you stupid, moss-brained dickhead."

I can smell the smoke on his clothes. His chest rises and falls as he glares at me. It's all I can do to avoid closing the gap between us, pinning him to the counter and having my way with him right then and there. But I can't. I won't. All this careful planning and manipulation will _not_ go to waste.

How does that ridiculous little piece of chef have the balls to say I'm stupid? I'll show him just how _stupid_ I _really_ am. He's going down this time - If I'm lucky, in more ways than one.

"Fine… I don't want your gross lunch anyway. That fruit tasted like crap." I start toward the door, knowing the dumb blond twirly-brow won't let me have the last word.

"Maybe if you'd stop eating from the floor like an animal, your dining experience would be more pleasant," Sanji huffs, turning back to his work.

I decide at this point to pull out all the stops and just be straight-up _evil_. I walk up behind him and suggest into his ear with the deepest, raspiest voice I can come up with, "Maybe acting like animals isn't always a bad thing."

I feel extremely satisfied with myself when he relaxes against me with a shaky sigh. He's been having more slip-ups like this lately. It really should _not_ be turning me on as much as it is, but I keep my eyes on the prize - I can't back down now.

The moment is short. He snaps back into his usual stick-up-his-perfect-ass posture and shoves me away, hard.

"You heard me, damn it. OUT."

"As you wish," I answer with a snicker.

I back out of the door with my hands up in the gesture for "truce."

He offers only a prissy "Hmph" as a goodbye.

I wonder if he's caught on to what I'm doing. I really hope not, because I'm _so close_ to getting results now.

* * *

I know…. Another ZoSan story with a cryptic ending. But I kind of like leaving some things open-ended and allowing the reader to imagine the rest. This does have the slight feel of a first chapter, so I may revisit this eventually, but for now, it shall remain a one-shot. Please review! KThnxBai.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I couldn't resist writing a second part to this story, so here it is – the same scene, but from Sanji's perspective! I had SO much fun with this, so I hope you guys like it. Love and ho-yay/foe-yay to all my readers. If you don't get that reference, look up those terms on TV Tropes. Only then will you understand what I mean. ;)

I'm entertaining the notion of continuing this story. I kind of like leaving it open-ended, but there's potential for a couple more chapters, too. I just posted a poll about that on my profile page. Thanks for reading - please review and vote!

* * *

The galley door swings open and I can immediately tell who my visitor is. He has all the grace of a herd of cattle. You can hear him tromping around a mile away.

"What do you want, Moss-For-Brains?" I don't bother turning away from my lunch preparations as I ask the question.

A tanned hand enters my periphery and steals a kiwi wedge. This will not stand.

"Oi!" I castigate the bastard, shooing him away. "Don't touch food while it's being prepared, stupid Marimo… it is highly unsanitary."

His eyes flick from mine to the floor where the kiwi slice has landed. He picks it up and throws it into the air. It arcs impeccably into his waiting mouth. He clenches the fruit between inexplicably white teeth that I alternate between wanting to kick in and wanting to taste.

"That. Is. _**Disgusting**_," I say, aghast.

"Five second rule," the jackass responds. He even has the audacity to lick his fingertips after touching the germ-ridden floor. I have given him just the reaction he wanted, if the shit-eating grin on his face is any indication.

Though I am truly appalled by the sight of someone eating food from the floor, I am exaggerating it a little bit for the audience. Besides that, as gross as it is, it's kind of sexy when Zoro does it.

I am generally attracted to fine, delicate features in women, but I like my men big, dirty and dumb. The more stomach-churningly _male_, the better. This sword-obsessed freak fits that bill perfectly. He drips with testosterone… crass, unctuous, _boiling hot_ testosterone.

"You're one to talk about 'unsanitary' and 'disgusting,' shitty cook. Smoking is a pretty nasty habit."

I can tell he's really trying to goad me now as he bravely thieves another morsel from my work space.

Far be it from me to deny him his entertainment. I put on my best sulking expression and a whiny voice that would put a hungry Luffy to shame.

"Shut up, idiot swordsman… and stop ruining my food with your tainted hands!"

I continue to play along when he takes a seat at the counter, laughing.

"Just what the hell is so funny, you Neanderthal?"

"Oh, nothing," the dope guffaws. "Just you… actin' like a _little bitch boy_."

I administer my familiar standby when dealing with Zoro, the Death Glare. "I'll show you 'bitch boy,' you uncouth moron… we can take this outside whenever you want."

I hold my gaze for a few seconds and then quickly turn back to my work in my time-perfected "flustered" stance. He's eating this up.

Nobody else on the ship seems to pick up on this, but Zoro wants to do all sorts of unsanitary, disgusting things with me on the counter where he sits… and anywhere else he could have me. The poor man is so repressed, he doesn't have the guts to just come out and tell me so. I can see it in his eyes, though, especially when he flashes that cocky smirk at me. This repartee we share is his backward, schoolyard way of flirting with me. If I had pigtails, he would pull them. It's so infantile.

I find it very funny (and maybe a little bit insulting) that he thinks I can't see what the jeers and jabs really mean. I may be blond and pretty, but I'm not an airhead. I follow his lead in these exchanges as an experiment. I'm intrigued to see where this "rivalry" will go next. The banter is usually pretty predictable, but he surprises me on occasion.

He thinks he's really working me into a froth with this nonsense, but in truth, I enjoy it a little. I guess I'm a bit of a masochist. Maybe it makes me feel special that I'm the only one the foolish lug does this with. Regardless, it's a pretty cruel game I'm playing with him. It's too much fun to stop, though. Perhaps after enough of this he'll grow a pair and admit he's attracted to me.

I chance a look over my shoulder after a minute or two of silence from the moss-headed jerk.

_My God. Is he seriously checking out my ass right now?_ This is irrefutable proof he's lusting after me.

I don't blame him, of course. I have a great ass. I've worked hard on it and I admire it in the mirror myself every morning, but Mr. Obvious isn't even _trying_ to be slick about it! I can't resist letting him know he's been caught.

"Yo, ero Marimo… My eyes are up here!"

His jaw muscles twitch when he looks up. I know before he even opens his mouth that he's lying.

"I wasn't lookin' at _you_, dumbass. I saw a roach on the floor over there."

Wow. What a lame excuse. But if that's the best he can come up with on the fly…

"No, you did _not_!" I squeal accordingly, retreating from the area of the room the King of Improv has indicated. The imbecile is laughing again. I switch from girlish fear to rage before he can blink.

"Get out of my kitchen, you stupid, moss-brained dickhead," I growl in a deadly tone, tangling my fingers in the front of his shirt. I have to admit that keeping my composure is difficult for a moment. Heat is radiating from his body and I have to release him before I give into the urge to bite his jutting lower lip.

He turns toward the door and I'm a little disappointed until he deadpans, "Fine… I don't want your gross lunch anyway. That fruit tasted like crap."

I knew he wouldn't let me have the last word if he could help it. I waste no time.

"Maybe if you'd stop eating from the floor like an animal," I fire back, returning to my cutting board, "your dining experience would be more pleasant."

"Maybe acting like animals isn't always a bad thing," his voice rumbles in my ear. He's suddenly much closer to me than he was before.

It's a bold and unexpected move on his part (see what I mean?), and it sends a jolt of electricity up my spine.

_Well, color me surprised._ The bumbling clod can actually be stealthy when he wants to be... and his voice can be downright erotic when he's not being obnoxious... I have to make a concerted effort to concentrate on the moment rather than slipping into fantasies about the things I'd like to hear that voice say.

I lean back slightly against him with my lovingly crafted "swooning but trying (and failing) to fight it" sigh. I've used it a few times now and I think he might be (slowly) getting the hint. He braces himself to hold my weight and I can tell my proximity alone is getting to him. _Checkmate, bitch._

I don't hold this position long before it's time to switch from "flirty" back to "hard-to-get." I straighten my back again, pushing the seductive motherfucker away.

"You heard me, damn it. OUT."

"As you wish," he mocks me, backing off.

I say nothing, sending him off with a righteously indignant huff.

I know full well that he's up to something. He thinks he's playing me. Maybe he is a little bit, but I'm playing him harder and he's clueless.

I'll keep going along with this little cat-and-mouse charade and see where it leads. Preferably it will eventually enable me to make him mine once and for all. That stupid-ass Marimo-cat doesn't know the kind of mouse he's messing with.


End file.
